


Honey on the Horn

by SecretFrog



Category: Ladies of Darkness, Ladies of Darkness (Podcast), Lodcast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:36:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretFrog/pseuds/SecretFrog
Summary: This part of the story is quite unimportant.Our heroes aren't here yet; the earthbound are dormant.But if you insist (though it isn't my style),Forget what you know about demons awhile.No mazes, no bridges, no children yet drowned,Just two simple humans in their little town...*click*





	Honey on the Horn

Honey shivered in the cold morning air as she unpacked her jars. It had been a hard February for DuPont - they’d been snowed in all weekend, in the worst storm most people in town had ever seen. But even though it was still freezing, the snow had stopped long enough for folks to clear the roads, and they were overdue for a market day. Honey didn’t suppose anyone would venture out in this cold just for a jar of honey, but after being holed up for days, surely some people would be coming to stock up on produce. It just made sense to set up the market today.

That was why Honey was so bothered by the empty stall next to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d arrived at the market before the O’Hares. Milk and eggs were big sellers with the early risers - but maybe they thought the cold would keep everyone indoors a little longer?

Honey didn’t take long to unpack. The sun was taking its time coming up, and she kept on shivering, even under layers of coats and scarves. Still nothing from the next stand. Finally, she decided to go over to the produce stall to ask around.

“Morning, Pam!” Honey said brightly, though through chattering teeth. “Heck of a week, huh?”

“You can say that again,” the old woman grumbled. Honey noticed her stand was far emptier than usual - plenty of the dried stuff, and a good supply of seeds, but not much else. The snow must have hit her crops hard. Maybe that was why Pam looked so down.

“Say, have you heard from Tom this morning?” Honey asked. “I just can’t help but wonder where he’s gotten to.”

“You haven’t heard?” Pam looked surprised, and even more depressed. “The O’Hares were out on the roads during that awful storm, and, well… they got in a wreck. I’m afraid they’ve passed on.”

Honey clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. Her eyes started brimming with tears, which stung particularly hard in the winter wind.

“Just breaks your heart,” Pam continued, “they’ve been here so long. Won’t be the same without them around. If you ask me, though, the worst part is their son, Gordon.”

“Not him too?” Honey gasped. She’d heard plenty about the O’Hare kid - Tom loved bragging about his talented son - but had she ever met him? She couldn’t quite picture his face, but she did remember a burly young man helping Tom out sometimes. Well, now that she thought about it, it made sense that she couldn’t remember his face; he had it buried in a book every moment he could spare. He had to have been close to her age - way too young to….

“No, he’s still with us,” Pam sighed, “but I almost wish he had gone with his folks. A boy his age shouldn’t have to live with this.”

“Oh, don’t say such things, Pam!” Honey cried, still wiping away tears. “At least he’s all right!”

“Well, I suppose he could’ve had it worse, but what’s he supposed to do now? He’s got no job, he’s got no support, he can’t run that farm on his own, and if he sells it he’s got no home.”

“Poor thing….” Honey sniffed. “I… I oughta get back to my stand.”

Honey couldn’t stop crying - the O’Hares were fine people, and it was hard to imagine them really gone. But more than anything, she couldn’t stand the thought of that poor boy, all alone on the farm. Once she’d gotten ahold of herself, she rooted through her supplies to find a clean, empty jar, and stuffed in a handful of dollar bills from her register.

Unsurprisingly, not many people came out to the market that day. Those who did were met with disappointment - with the O’Hares gone, and Pam low on produce, there wasn’t much left. But anyone who passed by got a jar rattled in their face and a puppy-dog look from Honey. By the end of the day, she’d gotten a lot of sympathy, but not much to show for it. Only a few people had given up their pocket change out of guilt. Well, at least it was something.

*************************************************************************************************************

After she’d closed up at the market, Honey drove out to the edge of the woods, then started in with a flashlight in one hand and her collections jar in the other. She’d only been out to the O’Hares’ farm once, but there weren’t that many paths out here, and she was pretty good with directions. She reached the farm just as the sun was setting behind the trees. Honey could make out the silhouettes of cows in the pasture, and heard a faint clucking from a dark blob in the distance that must have been the henhouse.

She followed the fence around to the house, relieved to see lights on inside. Honey rang the doorbell, clicking the flashlight off and stowing it back in her puffy yellow coat. After a few seconds, a large man opened the door.

“Can I help you?” he grunted. Honey’s heart sank - he looked awful. His hair was sticking out at every angle, there were dark shadows under his eyes, and his clothes were filthy.

“Um, are you Gordon?” Honey asked, almost hoping he’d say no. But there was no mistaking that bulky frame, and underneath the mild scarring on his face, she could see the resemblance to his parents. Sure enough, Gordon nodded, and Honey pressed on. “I just wanted to come out here and give my condolences. I knew your folks, they were always so nice, everyone misses them already…” She felt a lump starting in her throat again and held out the jar. “And we just wanted to help you out a little.”

Gordon took the jar and looked at Honey vacantly. “Awful nice of y’all,” he said flatly. He sounded as bad as he looked, tired and disoriented.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know, OK?” Honey urged. “Here, let me give you my phone number…”

“I appreciate it,” Gordon interrupted, “but I can handle myself.”

“You sure?” Honey pressed. From the looks of it, he could barely even keep himself standing. Gordon’s blank gaze had shifted to the jar.

“It’s Honey, right?” he said suddenly. She was taken by surprise - she would have been hard-pressed to remember his name if she hadn’t been told.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you…”

“Honey’s Honey. Kinda hard to forget a name like that.”

Honey brightened, and not just because he’d remembered her from the market - there was a hint of energy in his voice now. “Well then, if you decide you want help after all, just drop by, OK, sugar?”

Gordon nodded slightly. There was a pause, punctuated by mooing from the pasture. When it seemed clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, Honey gave him an awkward little wave and started walking away.

“Actually,” Gordon called abruptly, “would you like to come inside for a minute?”

She turned back around. “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother…”

“It’s no bother at all. You came out here in the cold, least I can do is offer you something hot.”

Honey smiled warmly and followed him inside. The house was nearly as cold as it was outside - either Gordon was trying to save money on heat, or he just hadn’t noticed in his heavy clothes. He closed the door behind her, setting the collections jar on a side table nearby, and led her into the kitchen.

She was greeted by a pleasant smell. A pot of chicken soup was simmering on the stove, and there was already a bowl and spoon out on the table - apparently, Honey had caught him right before his supper. Also on the table was a small pile of books, one of which was sitting open. Gordon noticed Honey looking at them and, realizing they were still there, hurriedly scooped them up. He tried to hide the covers as he carried them into the den, but Honey could just make out the title "Quick Tips for the Modern Farmer" before he stuffed them onto a shelf.

Gordon came back into the kitchen and rather quickly ladled them both out a generous helping of soup. He still seemed a bit flustered when he sat down with his bowl.

“Sorry it’s just the canned stuff,” he mumbled sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “I haven’t really gone out shopping since… for a while.”

“Oh, sugar, it’s fine,” Honey reassured him, “it’s sweet of you to share your food in the first place.” She pointedly took a bite - it was lucky she didn’t mind Campbell’s.

Gordon was fidgeting with his spoon, not eating, and still not looking at Honey. “So you knew my parents,” he said.

“That’s right, saw them every week at the market.”

“I was just wondering if… if you had any stories about them.”

So that was why he’d invited her in. Poor thing just wanted someone to talk to. “Oh, sure! Your pa, let me tell you, I could never pull one over on him. Every single week, I’d show up to the market, hauling in my supplies, and he’d already have everything set up. Now, I like to think I’m a morning gal, but no matter how early I was, I never could beat him. Bugged the heck out of me sometimes - I’d say to myself, don’t this man ever sleep?”

Gordon chuckled a little. “It’s funny, I used to think the same thing. This one Christmas when I was a kid, I decided I’d stay up all night for Santa. Snuck out of my room, kept peeking around the corner at the tree. Dad must have noticed me, cause when he came out to the den around midnight, he just sat down in his chair and started reading. Now I don’t know when I dozed off, but when I woke up I was in my bed and the presents were under that tree.”

“He outlasted you, huh?”

“Well, here’s the part I just couldn’t stand - in the morning, I went to go wake him up, right? And he was already out working in the barn.”

Honey giggled. Gordon was still smiling faintly, and finally looking up at Honey. “I wish I’d known your mama better,” Honey said. “She hardly ever came to the market. Tom always said she was too busy doing the real work.”

“He was right,” agreed Gordon. “I don’t know anyone who worked harder than mom. She kept the farm going whenever dad was away, on top of everything she did for our home, and for the family.”

“Y’know, I do remember one time she came over to the market. I’d come down with an awful cold, but I needed the money, so I came in to sell. Well, Martha stopped by to drop off a fresh batch of milk, and straight away she was asking what was wrong. I told her I was fine, that I looked worse than I really was, but she wasn’t buying it. She bought a whole crate off me on the spot and told me I should take some time off-”

Gordon started laughing, really honestly laughing. “Oh my god, finally! For two years I’ve been wondering why we had about a dozen jars of honey sitting in the back of the pantry. Lord knows we don’t eat that much of it. I should have known it was mom trying to take care of someone, she could never stand to see me or dad looking sick.” His smile gradually faded, and he looked back down at his soup, embarrassed. “...Anyway, what were you saying?”

“Oh… well, I did actually leave a little earlier than usual - your mama bought enough that I didn’t need to stay all day. And then next morning, bless her heart, she came around to my place to check if I was feeling better. Even brought me some…”

Honey trailed off. With the awkward tension back in the air, she’d started looking down at her food too, and she’d realized something. “...Some chicken soup,” she finished quietly.

That didn’t go unnoticed by Gordon, who’d gone bright red. “...I know, it’s stupid. Trying to treat this like it’s just some cold. Like there’s something inside you can soothe with a little soup.”

“Aw, no, Gordon, I don’t think it’s stupid at all. ...Does it help any?”

“Not really, no. Mom always used to make it herself anyway.” Gordon sniffed, his eyes looking misty. “But… having you here helps. Thanks.”

“It’s nothing, really. I can’t imagine how hard this must be. But you don’t have to be alone, you know?”

“Well, I do have to stay here and take care of the farm. Won’t have time for much else until I get used to it.”

“Are you sure you can take care of this place on your own? I could come up and help.”

“I’ll be all right. Besides, I’m sure you’re busy enough already.”

“Oh, not that busy. My girls can take care of themselves.”

Gordon almost choked on his soup. “Girls?”

Honey laughed. “I mean the bees. They’re a lot easier than what you’ve got here.”

Gordon was blushing again. “Right, of course. The bees.” He suddenly became very interested in his soup again, and the two of them ate in silence for a while.  
Soon enough, Gordon muttered something about forgetting to shut the cows back in the barn, and Honey figured it was time to go. As she was walking out the door, Gordon looked torn.

“Y’know…” he said hesitantly, “I guess I could use some help now and then. If you really don’t mind. Not for nothin’, of course, I’ll find something to give you in return.”

“I’d be happy to help.” Honey walked off past the fence, then turned back and waved cheerily. “And thanks for the meal!”

The night was colder on the walk back to her car than it was when she’d arrived, but it certainly didn’t feel that way to her.

*************************************************************************************************************

Honey was back at the O’Hare farm just two days later. She showed up at dawn, ready to work in old thick clothes, and headed to the barn. There was a commotion from inside, and she heard Gordon shouting “aw, god dammit!” When she opened the door, she saw Gordon with his pants drenched, an overturned bucket on the ground, and a cow that looked very upset with him.

“Honey! Oh, uh…” For a moment, Gordon was searching for an excuse. “Yeah. I’m… I’m gonna go get a towel. Just hold on, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He then ran face-first into the door as it refused to open. He wrestled with the knob for a minute, grumbling under his breath. Honey had to try very hard to stifle her laughter at this point. Finally, Gordon muscled it open and stumbled into the house. A few seconds later, he emerged with a rag, making a futile attempt to wipe the milk stains off his jeans.

“You’re gonna need to get out of those pants, sugar,” Honey said, picking up the bucket.

“What?” Gordon’s cheeks were very red as he continued to scrub.

“You can get ‘em dry, but they’re still gonna stink.” She went over to the cow and started stroking its back. “Did you make this girl mad?”

“Must have,” Gordon said with a shrug. “Well, no sense in changing these pants now, they’re about to be covered in mud, slop, and chickenshit anyway. More milk, too, if Cassie here still doesn’t like what I’m doing.”

“Ain’t you milked these girls before? Come here, I’ll show you how to do it right.”

Honey pulled up a stool and sat next to the cow. At a glance, it looked like she still had some milk in her, so she set the bucket down, gestured Gordon over, and started. Cassie had calmed down since kicking over the bucket, and with Honey’s gentler touch, it went far smoother. Next to be milked was Barb - Gordon was at the reins this time, but with Honey watching him closely. He still got a disgruntled moo when he pulled a little too hard, but he was clearly trying to do better.

And he kept trying that whole morning - mucking out the chickens, giving all the animals their feed. He clearly didn’t know the first thing about farming, and he wasn’t exactly a fast learner, but Honey helped him along. After a while, they went back into the house to break for lunch. Gordon rummaged around the fridge for some meat and started fixing sandwiches.

“Y’know,” he said, “if you hadn’t come along, I would’ve run this place to the ground before I got the hang of it.”

“You sure you grew up here?” Honey teased. “How’d you never learn what your pa did all day?”

“I don’t think he wanted me getting in his way.” Gordon brought over the two plates and sat down. “How in the world do you know how to do all this?”

“I grew up on a farm too, sugar. And unlike you, I bothered to pay attention to what went on around there.”

“What farm? I thought we were the only ones here except the Isleys’ fields.”

“Oh, not in DuPont. We lived out near Savannah. Wasn’t much bigger than this place - you could run it with two people easy enough.” Honey sighed. “Y’know, working here kinda makes me miss the place.”

“What happened to it?”

“Nothing, my folks still live there. But I just got it in my head one day that I wanted to raise bees, and pa’s deadly allergic. So when I was old enough, I moved out and found this little town.”

“Well, seems you’re doing well for yourself.” Gordon’s brow furrowed as he took a bite out of his sandwich. “So what else do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t be making more than, what, a hundred bucks a day at the market? Once a week? How do you get by?”

“Oh… yeah, well, I help out at the library some days too….” It wasn’t that Honey was uncomfortable with the question. It was that no one ever asked.

“You like working there?”

“It’s not a bad place for a day’s work. Nice and quiet.”

There was a sudden outburst of squawking from the henhouse. Gordon stood up.

“Wish I could say the same. I’d better go check what’s gotten into them.”

*************************************************************************************************************  
Honey was at the library the next few days. After his crash course, Gordon had insisted on trying to manage on his own for a while - on the condition that he call Honey if he needed anything (and she meant anything). So it was back to nice and quiet for her.

Well. It was certainly quiet. As she busied herself reshelving books, she kept her ears open, looking up every time the door opened. But the library was always the same - Selina guiding people from the front desk, folks quietly perusing the shelves or reading in the corners, and absolutely nothing to talk about.

When Honey got home, she found herself waiting by the phone, hoping it would ring. For a while, she wasn’t sure why she was being this obsessive. It wasn’t as though she was that interested in Gordon - after all, she barely knew him. But after a couple quiet nights, taking care of the bees, reheating casserole, and watching her old grainy television, she had to admit it: she was just lonely.

Honey wasn’t sure how it hadn’t hit her before. Did… did she not have any friends? Ever since she’d moved out to DuPont, she’d gotten along fine on her own. And… that had pretty much been it. She’d been friendly enough, always quick to offer help if someone was hurting, but it seemed like everyone who lived here already had someone else to turn to. She’d never really had a reason to spend time with anyone she worked with. And as lovely as her bees were, they weren’t much for conversation.

And so she was the one to pick up the phone. She knew someone else who could use a friend. And, next morning, she went to the local diner for breakfast with Gordon.


End file.
